Browsed byCategory: Travel

Back in June, as we were moving out of our house, Will left the back of the moving truck open and got on the interstate. We were lucky not to lose much, but what we did lose was a filing cabinet full of all our important documents – birth certificates, marriage certificate, tax returns, etc.

Will did something very smart in this moment. I was in a separate car, unaware of these events, and he chose not to contact me until he had dealt with the situation. Luckily, Will found the filing cabinet in the middle of a (busy) on ramp having not yet caused injury to anyone. The cabinet fell on its drawers, trapping the documents inside. When my husband called me to tell me what happened, and why he’d be delayed to the storage unit, I was shocked, but relieved.

This could have been the first blow out fight of our trip. Let’s be honest, I could have freaked out when I heard about the moving truck incident. I did get mildly worked up when I first heard the story (who wouldn’t.) But while Will was still talking, I had this very clear moment – what kind of wife did I want to be? How did I want to start this trip? Whether or not this results in additional tension is completely up to me – and I could choose whether to be frustrated or generous about it. On this, the first day of our trip, I would get to set the tone for how we would handle obstacles together. I stopped at a gas station and got Will some food and water for when we met up at the storage unit. He had been moving boxes all day and was tired, hungry, and dehydrated. He needed a little love.

On the same page

Some friends and family have asked us about the trip and our marriage. The questions and comments fall into two categories: “what a wonderful way to start your marriage!” and “do you think you’ll be speaking to each other when you get back?” I don’t know what the secrets are to nomadic marital bliss, but based on the past three weeks, I’d bet that generosity is one of them.

Will is also very generous with me. I get what Will refers to as “grumpy” sometimes during our travels. “Grumpy” can be defined as a complete loss of patience for anything and anyone. We have already almost missed an early morning flight, suffered altitude sickness, and have started editing each other’s blog posts – all of which have caused some grumpiness. When we almost missed our early morning flight to Salt Lake City – anticipating the effects – Will got me a caffeinated drink even though I said I didn’t want it, and gently encouraged me to drink it throughout the flight. He was right. I really needed that caffeine. Will is never harsh with me when I lose my patience. He knows it’s usually hunger, dehydration, or lack of caffeine that is the cause. He just puts his arm around me, kisses me on the head, and tells me what we’re going to do when I’m not grumpy anymore. He makes a decision not to turn those moments into more tension, but meets them with generosity.

Not on the same page

There will be more significant trials in the future. We may get sick at the same time, or miss our transportation, or disagree about the direction we need to go. We are also blogging together, which adds another layer of joint decision making. The next year will be a constant exercise in getting on the same page.

All that aside, travel will transform us in wonderful ways – and the great gift of travelling as a couple is sharing that transformation with each other. I wouldn’t want to do this trip without Will. I look forward to the many memories we’ll be able to share for a lifetime – even if there are a few epic fights scattered in there. In fact, we will be stronger for them.

I’m convinced generosity will help us grow closer through this experience and prevent travel problems from becoming relationship problems. I’m also convinced it’s not the only ingredient for success. We will keep you posted as the recipe for this nomadic marriage unfolds…and our ears are open to lessons others have learned about relationships on the road.

When I woke up this morning and decided to take a jog around the National Mall, I didn’t expect to spend much time reflecting on the nature of America or my American identity. Maybe it’s a credit to the design of the Mall, or the fact that I had spent the previous night watching fireworks from a rooftop to shouts of ‘U.S.A.’ Maybe it was the impending U.S. v. Japan World Cup finals, or just the fact that traveling the world to get a better idea of what it means to be an American is one of the themes of this blog. But a few miles in, I had trouble thinking about anything else.

The reflections started with a sense of frustration. I began my loop near the Capitol building. The Capitol looms above the Mall and the dome is covered in scaffolding. ‘A nation under construction,’ I thought. As I rounded the water in front of it, already a bit out of breath, I felt a lukewarm disappointment seep into my thoughts. The actions of those inside seemed pale and weak compared to the dignity of their surroundings. I thought about how the idea of self-sacrifice for the greater good was such an obvious concept when I was younger. I felt a worn out anger at the role of self-interest in the building disappearing behind me.

It had been too long since I ran regularly and I didn’t stretch as much as I should have. My hamstrings were feeling tight. The Washington Monument grew larger as I approached. ‘An obelisk,’ I thought. ‘Just like the ancient Egyptians.’ I was amused by this continuity, across millennia, between the two civilizations.

At the Vietnam Memorial, I slowed to a walk out of respect. Families beside me looked for specific names. So many names… As more people stopped, I was struck by how the sacrifices from this too complicated war still ripple in our Nation’s families.

By the time I reached the Lincoln Memorial, it was nine in the morning and small crowds had begun to form. Members of a Chinese tour group looked on with faces of respect, curiosity, and maybe boredom. I considered the crowds, wondered if I might have a slight odor at this point in my run, and decided to hike up the steps anyway. The steps are steep and add to the overall majesty of the memorial. Lincoln’s second inaugural address is chiseled into the wall on the right side. It starts by saying that there’s not much to say, so I figured I could read it through. I stood looking up, my eyes straining without my glasses, while the crowds focused on the statue behind me. The country is in the midst of a war that nobody wanted and he offers no predictions of how it will end. Throughout the speech there is a focus on what both sides have in common. Lincoln acknowledges the absurdity of both sides praying to the same God to ask that He cause other men to suffer. We must stand together as one nation no matter the cost. ‘With malice toward none. With charity for all.’ We must bind the nation’s wounds. When people say our politics today are the most divided they’ve ever been, I want to grab them and shake them, ‘Don’t you know we fought a Civil War?!?!?’

Around this point I realized that my morning jog was proving more interesting than I expected. I started to think it might make a decent blog post. I decided to start taking pictures.

My extended stay with brother Abe left me physically rested, and I picked up my pace as I jogged away. I began to cycle through the impressions that had been made on me during the run. I thought of the engraving at the WWII memorial saying that America came to liberate and not to conquer and how unusual that was in the history of the world. The WWI memorial is embarrassingly boring and no one was there. Good architecture goes a long way.

World War II Memorial

World War I Memorial

During my two years teaching U.S. history, I discovered that Martin Luther King and FDR are my favorite historical figures, so I felt a swell of excited anticipation as I crossed the road toward their memorials. The Marin Luther King memorial is beautiful and the quotes on either side are well chosen. Dr. King has become so identified with the black community in the United States, and with the struggle in the south in particular, that it can be easy to forget how global his perspective on peace and justice truly was. All people are connected. When we fight for the good of others we become greater ourselves. Love will triumph over hate. These would be powerful sentiments from a man of thought, but they echo more deeply coming from a man defined by his actions.

The FDR memorial is more of an experience than the others. Successive courtyards pay tribute to the different terms of his presidency. Large granite blocks cut off the outside world. The sound of falling water murmurs above the silence. ‘All we have to fear is fear itself.’ I didn’t understand what that meant the first hundred times I heard it. But now I’ve seen how fear can paralyze, how it brings out the worst parts of ourselves. It is better to lean forward and act. To create what hasn’t existed before. ‘Happiness lies in the joy of achievement and the thrill of creative effort.’

I ran along the edge of the lake to return to the main stretch of the Mall. The Jefferson monument reflected in the water to my right. I noticed that the frustration that marked the first part of my run had turned to something else. I understand that monuments and memorials don’t make policy, but they do tell us something about what we want our country to be, what we choose to remember. I began to feel a sense of pride in the people and ideas we have chosen to memorialize. The ideas engraved at the Mall are ones of sacrifice and brotherhood. We are greatest during the most difficult times because that is when we come together. We believe in the dignity of our fellow man. America is, and always has been, far from perfect. Our history is defined by the struggles of people fighting for rights they should never have had to fight for. But the idea that anyone born anywhere should have the same shot at opportunity as anyone else, is pretty new in the history of the world, and we have those ideas, more than other countries, intricately woven with the type of nation we want to be. America is a promise projected into the future. A commitment to work for a more perfect Union.

I understand that this kind of personal pride in America comes easier to me as a white male than others. I often think of one of my favorite team building activities to do with young teachers. I ask them to come up with the three identities that are most important to who they are and then share out why they chose those identities. Every time a few people say ‘American,’ and every time those people are also white males. But I do think we’ve come a long way since Frederick Douglass gave his remarks on how limited the independence gained on July 4th really was, and I think, as a country, we’re starting to acknowledge just how far from perfect our Union currently is. But even given all of that, people from all over the world still aspire to come to cross our borders and sail to our shores and that’s a good thing, Mr. Trump. That’s how we’ve become who we are.

As I passed the Washington monument, I looked back and remembered that a guide in Egypt once told me that obelisks were designed to draw a person’s eye toward the sky. To create a sense of awe in something greater than ourselves.

I returned to the place where I began, slowed my pace to a walk and checked the time. It had taken me over two hours to run about five miles, but I was still winded, and I struggled to catch up to my thoughts.

Thanks for helping me to find a way to give them order,

Will

(And just in case there are any doubts about the fact I was running throughout this. Here’s my sweaty-faced selfie with FDR):